Thursday, June 30, 2011

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

Went down to dinner tonight by myself to enjoy some delicious (or lack there of) dinner food.
Tonight was apparently bar food night. They had wings, fish sticks, and a bunch of other shit I can't pronounce nor will I taste.

I started out with the cream of chicken soup - which was more like water with "chicken" pieces soup. It had an alright flavor, but should have been in cardboard box labeled "chicken stock" than in a bowl. Of COURSE, I had the chicken wings. Chicken wings are my favorite food in the world. If chicken wings approached me to do a commercial for them, I wouldn't even charge. "I'd do it for free, chicken!" (Thanks DC). Except... these chicken wings were Indian chicken wings and tasted like every other Indian dish I've eaten in the past 5 weeks. I had 2 and stopped. And a tear dropped my eye...
They also had fish sticks. Which, from what I remember as a kid, were a step above Fisherman's Best. Next to the fish sticks was something they called, "Fish Mexican". I was confused. I thought mexican fish WAS the fish sticks. "Fish Mexican"? They must have known I was eating there tonight. Awful sweet of them. It was pieces of "fish", wish tomato sauce and some peppers and such. Not bad, but I'm not sure what kind of "fish" it was. I think it was more, "hey there's some stuff at the bottom of the box of fish sticks so lets add something to it and call it mexican". Ain't that a...
So there I was, enjoying my "delicious" dinner when some dude sits at the table next to me. He's obviously likes the Indian food a lot more than I do because dude was smacking away like he was 7 years old eating some Apple Jacks. Fool was smacking so hard, I thought he was doing the naughty under the table. I was afraid to look. Of course I did.
I'll move one.

After finishing my one and only plate, I was sitting enjoying my beer and my burnt-to-a-crisp esophagus, when I noticed that each and every waiter on staff had one eyebrow. I wonder if that's a requirement on the application. Like, I'm pretty sure they found out how to get to Sesame Street, these Bert and Ernie looking motherf'ers. It was wild.

And then, someone's phone rang. And I'm not talking a regular cell phone ring, it was the EXACT ring from the T-Mobile commercial back in the day.
And then another. Same ring tone.
And then another. Same ring tone, EXCEPT the acoustic version. Apparently, VodafoneIndia doesn't allow ringtone downloads.

And if one more fool tries to speak Hindi to me, I'm going to speak pig latin back. Two can play that game. I would give anything for someone to try and speak spanish to me right now. That I can handle.

Now I'm back in my room, answering emails and browsing that Facebook mess. Geez, this place is boring. It's like watching Bob Ross paint happy trees, but less exciting. I'd rather be fishing... in the toilet. As a matter of fact....

Until next time...

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